Timestamp: Cycle 4, Month 4 — Solar Season
Location: Arcanum Base – Resonant Hangar & Civilian Supply Sector Delta
I. The Arrival
The hangar hummed like a deep metallic heartbeat—steady, low, alive. Every vibration crawled up through the floor into boots and bones. Morning sunlight speared through the steel beams above, scattering gold across rows of Frames standing motionless like ancient guardians. Dust floated in the light, swirling like fragments of memory caught between air currents.
Cadets filled the walkways in hushed tension. Some leaned against the railing, arms folded, pretending calm. Others adjusted gear that was already perfect—just to keep their hands busy. No one said it out loud, but every one of them felt it.
The Riftguard were coming.
Real soldiers. The kind who'd walked through Rifts and made it back.
A low siren blared once—short, sharp, final—and silence fell.
From the far side of the hangar, the massive bay doors split open with a hydraulic hiss. A wave of cold air rushed in, carrying that faint ozone scent of Rift transit crafts—half metallic, half electric, like a storm trapped inside a machine. Through the glare of light and mist, four figures appeared. Their silhouettes were sharp, their coats long and battle-worn, trimmed with silver lines that shimmered like scars of experience.
They marched with the kind of discipline that didn't need an audience. Not slow. Not fast. Just inevitable.
Jade Ronquillo stood near the front line, hands half-clenched by his sides. He'd been warned to keep still—no waves, no chatter, no awkward gestures. His palms itched anyway. His eyes tracked the movement of their coats, noting the burns, the faint chemical stains that even base sterilizers couldn't clean.
"Those are the Riftguard?" Celene Yusay whispered beside him, her tone hovering between awe and disbelief. "They look like—"
"—like ghosts that never died," Dean Pineda muttered, arms crossed tight. "That's what the outer warfronts do to you."
The four veterans stopped at the center of the hangar. The lead figure stepped forward—tall, sharp-eyed, beard trimmed close but uneven, like he didn't care enough to perfect it anymore. His presence alone made everyone straighten their backs.
"I am Commander Virel Kaen, Division Delta," his voice carried through the air, steady without needing amplification. "With me—Lieutenant Aras Menoa of Epsilon Division, Major Drevan Holt of Sigma, and Warrant Officer Sari Ilen of Theta."
His gaze swept across the formation. "You've survived the synchronization trials. You've touched the M.A.N.A. field directly—and you're still standing. That alone makes you more than most who try."
A few nervous glances exchanged between cadets. A small smile flickered across Jasmine Pineda's face. Allen Maniego only grunted quietly, the sound lost in the hangar's echo.
Virel continued. "We're here under orders of the Outer Arcanum Command to evaluate your readiness for Rift exposure. That means observation, combat protocol, and most importantly—ethics."
He let that last word hang. "If you can't remember the purpose of your power, you're a liability. And liabilities die first."
He scanned the front row again. His eyes locked on Jade.
"Cadet Jade Ronquillo," he said evenly. "You wrote the Countercode that neutralized the Rift malware breach, correct?"
Jade's heart tripped a beat. "Yes, sir. Countercode version three-point-one, built to—uh, re-sequence the defensive kernel and isolate corrupted transmission nodes."
Virel nodded once. "In simpler words—you stopped the Academy from burning."
A ripple of quiet laughter rolled through the crowd. "That was good work, cadet."
Jade managed a small nod, the compliment sitting awkwardly but warmly on his shoulders. Celene smirked beside him, whispering, "Told you your nerd code would save us."
Dean muttered something like, "Show-off," but there was pride buried under the sarcasm.
Commander Virel stepped back. "All units, prepare for evaluation drills. Training Sector Delta is now under Riftguard control. Full observation conditions—no fatalities allowed, but expect injuries. Begin deployment."
The veterans dispersed, each heading toward a control deck. Lights across the hangar flared alive. The Frames began to stir, their Resonant cores glowing to life—like hearts remembering how to beat again.
The Observation
Training Sector Delta sprawled beyond the cliffside, a vast open field enclosed by towering holographic walls. The terrain shimmered to life—cracked streets, leaning towers, drifting dust. An entire ruined city reborn in light.
Jade and the others stood at the deployment line, helmets tucked under arms, suits humming faintly with pre-sync energy.
"Alright," Commander Virel's voice echoed through comms. "This isn't about who looks good in a fight. We're testing coordination, control, and cohesion. Survive the simulation as one unit."
Jasmine slid her visor on. "So, no explosions?"
Dean's grin was audible. "No promises."
Jade inhaled, fingers brushing the cool edge of Astra Nova's control pad. "Team Vanguard, formation Echo. Let's move."
"Copy," Celene's voice came clear through comms. "Revenant Prime online."
"Tempest Wing ready," Jasmine followed.
"Helion Vanguard active," Dean confirmed.
The rest—Mateo, Dalisay, Liwayway, Allen, Gene—checked in one by one. The hum of synchronization filled the air, a resonant harmony that vibrated through the airfield.
Engines roared. Energy wings unfurled. The Frames rose into the simulated skyline like a storm ascending.
From the observation deck, the Riftguard officers watched in silence.
"They've got rhythm," Major Drevan murmured. "Instinctive, but unrefined."
Lieutenant Aras crossed her arms. "Give them months, not years. They'll surpass most rookies."
"Especially that one," Virel said quietly, watching Astra Nova blaze across the sky. "Ronquillo flies like he's thinking three moves ahead."
On the field, Jade's voice came through. "Dean, left flank—Jasmine, phase shift—now!"
The timing was flawless. Tempest Wing folded its prismatic wings and vanished into a slipstream, passing through a drone's plasma burst. Helion Vanguard stomped forward, kinetic vents igniting, shielding the formation from debris.
The explosion flashed white, then faded—formation intact. Applause rippled from cadets watching on monitors inside the hangar. Even the Riftguard didn't hide their approval.
For hours, they endured wave after wave: simulated Rift incursions, breach scenarios, corrupted AI units. Liwayway rerouted defense arrays mid-battle. Dalisay kept synchronization stable even when their M.A.N.A. levels dipped. Allen's heavy assault Frame took entire bombardments just to keep Jasmine's sky clear.
They weren't perfect—but they adapted. They trusted.
Inside his cockpit, Jade's breathing fogged the glass. His hands trembled slightly, not from fear but from memory. The last time he'd felt this much pressure, the malware had nearly seized control. His Countercode had saved them—but it had left something scarred inside him.
"You alright, Jade?" Celene's voice cut in, soft through comms.
"Yeah," he replied too quickly. "Just thinking."
"Stop thinking, start moving," she teased. "That's when you're good."
He smiled faintly. "Copy that."
On the deck, Commander Virel folded his arms. "They move like a single current," he said quietly. "Not trained reflex—bonded instinct."
"Shared trauma, more like," Major Drevan muttered, half-smiling.
"Same difference," Virel said. "It keeps them alive."
III. Recognition
Dusk washed over the training sector in gold and violet haze. The holographic skyline dissolved, leaving the real cliffs and open steel field beneath. Frames powered down, exhaling bursts of light and vapor like sleeping giants cooling off after battle.
Exhausted cadets removed their helmets. Some leaned against their Frames. Some just sat on the floor, grinning through sweat.
The Riftguard officers approached again, boots echoing against the hangar deck. The sound alone drew every cadet to attention.
"You've done enough," Commander Virel began. His voice, though calm, held that tone of judgment everyone braced for. "We've reviewed your metrics and your performance under stress."
He looked over them—each of the eight who had led the drills. "Eight of you demonstrated operational discipline, synchronization stability, and adaptive coordination equivalent to Riftguard standards."
The hangar stilled.
He raised a holographic panel. Eight names flickered in light-blue glyphs.
"Jade Ronquillo. Dean Knicko Pineda. Jasmine Pineda. Celene Yusay. Mateo Reyes. Liwayway Cruz. Dalisay Arven. Allen Maniego."
"Effective immediately," he continued, "you are hereby elevated to Provisional Riftguard Officer Rank, under mentorship and supervision of the Outer Arcanum Divisions. You will train directly under Delta Command for your field integration."
For a moment, no one breathed. Then applause rose—hesitant at first, then thunderous. Cadets clapped, cheered, shouted names. Even Gene, normally stoic, laughed under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief.
Dean glanced over at Jade. "You realize this is all your fault, right?"
"Yeah," Jade said, still dazed. "Guess I should've crashed the system instead."
Celene nudged him. "Don't tempt fate."
Virel stepped closer and extended his hand. Jade hesitated, then took it. The handshake was firm, grounding. Something in Virel's gaze—respect, maybe warning—settled deep.
"You've earned the right to face the real thing," Virel said. "But remember—real Rifts don't pause for you to think."
"Yes, sir," Jade said quietly.
Virel released his hand and turned away. "Rest, officers. The next cycle begins soon."
The hangar doors opened again, bathing the metal floor in the orange fire of a setting sun. The Riftguard walked toward the light, their silhouettes stretching long and dark before fading into the horizon.
For a moment, the newly appointed officers just stood there, letting it sink in. The title, the pressure, the pride.
Dean broke the silence first. "Well… guess that means we're official."
"Doesn't feel real yet," Jasmine murmured.
"It will," Jade said, watching the sunset gleam off the Frames. "When the next Rift opens."
Celene looked at him, brow arched. "And it will, won't it?"
He nodded. "It always does."
The hangar fell quiet again, save for the distant hum of the Frames powering down. Outside, the light dimmed, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet. Team Vanguard—dusty, bruised, but proud—walked back toward the barracks.
As they passed the mirrored wall near the corridor, Jade caught his reflection—eyes tired but burning bright. For the first time, he didn't look like a cadet anymore.
He looked like someone ready to guard the future that was coming.
And deep down, they all understood:
The Riftguard hadn't just arrived to test them.
They'd come to pass the torch.